Again she ran forward, confidently hoping to reach her people by the lake before she was overtaken; for the child of the forest was skilled in running and had a considerable start. But, after a few steps, fresh terror seized her: she again heard, this time directly behind her, the hoofbeats of a horse. At first she hoped it was another riderless charger, but it followed directly upon her track, and she now heard, in the language of the foe, all sorts of cries urging the animal on. A frightful thought darted through her brain. At any cost, she must turn to see whether--
Yes, her fears were verified. Herculanus had caught one of the horses that crossed his path, thrown himself upon it, and was now pursuing the girl, who was using the last remnant of her strength to fly. She distinctly heard the heavy feet splash through the marshy pools of the meadow land; heard, alas! louder and louder, therefore nearer and nearer, the fierce shouts of the rider and the trampling of hoofs winged by his excitement. The space which separated them grew shorter and shorter very rapidly. Mortal terror overwhelmed Bissula; she remembered how the cruel Roman had tried to kill her in the forest hut like an animal slain for sacrifice.
In this approach of death one name, one only sprang to her lips. "Adalo!" she shrieked, "Adalo! Help, save me, save Bissula!"
Vain appeal! No human being was visible far or near. No answer came.
There was no fighting on the strip of shore toward which she was running, only far out on the lake blazing Roman galleys were floating, pursued by the little boats of the Alemanni.
The terrible horse was already very near. She could hear the snorting of the animal as it was urged forward with blows of the heels, shaking of the bridle, and shouts, to more and more frantic speed. Then--oh, rescue!--she saw in the gray light of morning, close to the shore, hidden among the rushes, two boats of the Alemanni side by side. Those were certainly no Roman vessels: there was neither triangular sail nor lofty prow. Bissula even fancied that she distinguished on one the sixteen-branched antlers, Adalo's house-mark. Yes, yes, there it was; it was his fishing boat, and several men were bending to the oars. She called loudly several times: "Help, Alemanni, help for Bissula!"
Oh, joy! They had heard her voice. The men were rowing with all their might; both boats were flying toward the shore to meet her. And then, more joy: she heard behind her a loud cry and a dull, heavy fall with a splashing noise. She could not help looking back.
Yes, the horse, urged beyond its strength by the pitiless rider, had fallen; it lay on its side, lashing out savagely with its hoofs. But alas! Bissula had rejoiced too soon. The rider had sprung up unhurt and was now running toward her--only a few steps away, brandishing his dagger. The second pursuer appeared from behind the horse. And the boat was still several ship's lengths out upon the lake. Without hesitation the girl leaped into the water, waded as long as she could touch the bottom, then with a strong push from the ground, spread out her powerful white arms, well practised in the art, and swam toward the nearest boat.
No girl on the northern shore excelled Bissula in swimming; but the long flowing folds of her robe hampered her, winding about her feet as soon as they were wet and preventing her from aiding the strokes of her arms with those of the lower limbs. And, horror! splashes behind her announced that her pursuer, or two of them, had followed her into the lake, for she thought she twice heard a plunge or a heavy fall. This fear paralyzed the last remnant of her strength; her arms also refused to obey her will; she sank with her face low in the water.
Once more she raised herself from it; then she felt her pursuer seize her long robe and drag her toward the land; but at the same instant his grasp relaxed; a shrill death-cry fell upon her ear, followed by a low, angry growl. Turning her head, she saw Herculanus sinking in the arms of a huge blackish-brown beast.